Tag Archives: forced


Disclaimer: This story will contain material related to the topic of sex and religion. No offence of any kind was intended by the author in the drafting of this story. All readers please be advised.

I was born to a dissociated couple, which gradually grew to become a set of divorced parents as time past. I have always resided in Northen Virginia though, the state they chose to settle down in almost a decade ago, when their love was still blooming and on fire. This may be the place my parents had decided to split, but it was where I grew up. I had no reason to leave. Being the product of separated parents will always have a certain impact on the child, and one could safely say I was no different. While kids of my age during middle school enjoyed their childhood times, I was busy becoming an adult, having to deal with arguments every other day over meagre issues, usually over me. After all, with separation, I was the only bridge left between them. Obviously, I grew up and matured very swiftly, in dire hopes of resolving the troubled times that followed even after my parents’ separation. Many years ensued as time quickly past, and before long, I was already in my mid twenties, approaching the climax of my adulthood.

My parents weren’t all bad though. Well at least, not totally. There is one benefit from being their child, probably the only one, and that is their affluence. They were always one of the richest individuals residing in the district we lived in. My childhood may have been constantly rocked by dreaded scenes of unrest at home, but money was certainly an issue. What was an issue, was that I had been inevitably categorised as one without much talent in mainstream education, and hence no prospect in the white collar world. I quickly realised that, trying to correct that would only be a futile attempt. With that in mind, at the age of sixteen, I decidedly dropped out of high school, switching to pursue hairdressing instead, after discovering that I had a certain knack and love for the trade.

In an effort to make up for the past, or at least that was what I thought, my now-separated parents jointly funded my first private business entity, which was a full-fledged hair salon located downtown. It was a small shop space no doubt, but I certainly did not mind. After all, small was not all that bad, since it did not require much furnishing. There was sufficient space for me to setup two haircutting stations, along with a simple front desk and a segregated hair washing area. Small also means that I simply needed to employ two assistants that would help me out with daily chores and chemical treatments. It was a modest business, but the privacy offered by the careful shop design and meticulous service quickly won the hearts of the local townsfolk, in particular those that had to don hijabs or other covered headdresses for their daily lives. As it is a two-seater salon, they were able to comfortably unveil their hijab to get their haircuts or treatments in full privacy at most times. It was a win-win since I could simply offer these sort of customers appointment timeslots and allow them to book down the entire space, in case they felt uncomfortable with revealing their precious locks to strangers.

One of my regular clients, Mariana, was born in a very religious family. However, for certain unknown reasons, she seemingly grew to become an Atheist, or perhaps simply a non-believer. I certainly took no issue with it, since her faith was of no immediate impact to me. However, Mariana’s lack of belief became an issue for her parents, whom were frustrated by Mariana’s repeated refusal to don their religious headdress. Mariana on the other hand, did not want to do so as she did not share the belief her parents pledged their faith to.

Her parents however, were one of the most influential families that had connections both politically and commercially. They were a pair of individuals that were well-respected in the city, and certainly should not be trifled with. Their respect for the religion they endear treads as far as the amount of power they wield in the city, and they have been continuously annoyed by Mariana’s ignorance when it came to the necessity of her following in their religion. The pair was convinced that if Mariana would not obey, they would eventually bite the bullet and use harsher methods to change her mind.

With African roots, Mariana had a full head of wiry, curly hair that she carefully styled as an afro. She would regularly drop by my hair salon monthly to get the afro trimmed up, sometimes getting a blowout when she felt like going slick straight for a day or two. That was no different for today, as she called a day earlier to book a timeslot for a trim and blowout. On the other hand, something drastic and unexpected was about to unfold for Mariana.

Upon knowing that Mariana was scheduled for a trim and blowout at my hair salon, her parents had discreetly stepped in and requested for a favour, even promising a payment in the near future. I was utterly shocked by their request, and had to consider carefully before agreeing, because what was planned technically could not be considered legal. However, in the fear that refusal of their request would offend them and damage my chances of keeping my business long-lasting, I ultimately accepted their request and took on the task, albeit reluctantly.

It was just past one in the afternoon, when the sun was still blazing bright, that Mariana stepped into the hair salon. Knowing that she will be arriving around then from the appointment made, I had decided to reject any potential business from any walk-in customers , and simply waited by the front desk for her arrival. I gestured her towards one of the stations upon her arrival, while one of my assistants assisted Mariana to change into one of the beige silk gowns we offer our clients to change into while we render our services. On the other hand, the other assistant passed me one of the glossy ivory-coloured capes that we used. These capes were custom ordered to be larger in size and feel smooth to touch. The enlarged size was to accommodate the slightly larger frames of the clients I get, and the silky feel was to ensure my clients remained comfortable. The glossy colour also gives off a sense of elegance. Ironic as it may be, what was coming for Mariana was nowhere as elegant.

As per usual procedure, after Mariana took a seat, I proceeded to the humongous-sized cape over Mariana, covering her figure in its entirety, fastening it snuggly by the back of her neck. Judging by her behaviour, she seemed to have completely no idea what was coming. It further reinforces the fact that her parents wanted this ensuing episode to have a dramatic impact.

“Just a trim and blowout please, Jane,” Mariana spoke, as she fiddled slightly with the cape that was already covering her to make herself more comfortable in the seat. Dear oh dear, how was I going to explain myself after what was going to happen to Mariana?

Devachan Caping 1

Devachan Caping 2

In an effort to first mask the ultimate motive, I calmly restrained my nerves and checked through her wiry curls as per usual. As I did so, I casually commented that her afro looks damaged and dried out, questioning if she had been straightening or dyeing it by herself frequently, but that was obviously not the case. She looked indifferent to my remarks, brushing them aside, but I went on about the unhealthy condition of her curls. When it seemed that she would not surrender on her own will, it escalated quickly to having to take more drastic measures.

“Ladies, kindly assist our customer by the seat please,” vaguely hinting for my assistants to step in and secure Mariana in place. They had been briefed beforehand on what was about to take place, and being followers of the same faith as Mariana’s parents, they had no objection of the plan that was unfolding. They quickly stepped up to the sides of Mariana while she was all caped up and in seat. They swiftly reached beneath the cape, and forcefully pressed Mariana’s arms tightly to the armrests of the chair. With rope in hand, I tied both of her arms to each of the armrests respectively. Mariana was totally shocked upon sight of what we were doing, and tried to fight back, but was mostly futile as my assistants kept her steadily in place while I secured her to the chair, ensuring that she had no chance of escaping from what was coming for her.

“Jane, what are you doing? Let me go right now, I am one of your regular customers for god’s sake!” Mariana exclaimed. “God? But there is no god in your life Mariana, or is there? You though, might be wishing there is one very soon,” I replied Mariana blankly, holding in my nerves as much as possible. She was now kicking frantically with her arms fastened and unable to move, and I thought that since it had come to this extent, might as well go all the way. I took more rope, and tied her legs to the foot support as well, rendering Mariana totally zero control of what was going to happen to her.  Mariana was lost for words by now, and did not know what she could possibly do. She had no other options but to accept the current scenario. The curtains were already drawn shut by now, with the salon supposedly closed an hour for lunch. It would take hours before anyone would even suspect or realise the plight Mariana was currently set in, giving us enough time to deal the punishment her parents had wanted us to prepare for her.

The assistants had retreated to the back by now, observing the inevitable fate of Mariana. To totally eradicate any signs of opposition or retaliation, I decided to tape her mouth, masking any vocal rebuttal from her. I reached for a pair of cordless hair clippers from the servicing tray, and unhooked the #2 guard that I usually kept attached on to use for my male customers. The clippers were now without any guards attached, meaning that its blades will unforgivingly shave hair off down to the scalp.

The hair clippers turned on with a thud, and Mariana’s eyes widened upon the sight and sound of it in motion. She murmurs through the tape on her mouth, but could not voice out any clear words to describe her feelings. I grabbed her firmly by her afro, and pulled backwards with some effort to sit her straight, countering her reluctance to obey. Tears almost seamed from her eyes, but I could not care any further. I had verbally promised her parents beforehand, that this was necessary and would be a done deal. With her head tilted back and in place, I placed the oscillating blades of the hair clippers just before Mariana’s front hair line, and ruthlessly pushed backwards all the way towards the crown. The clipper blades changed tunes as it quickly sliced through Mariana’s wiry locks, sending them tumbling to settle on the cold salon floor. I repeated the process, making more passes through Mariana’s locks with the clippers, sending more of her bushy hair to the floor, now laying lifelessly. What was left in the path of the hair clippers, was Mariana’s scalp, pale and free of hair for the first time in her life.


Before long, Mariana’s head was clean of her afro, with all of it now settled lifeless on the floor. I gathered them together into a neat pile, before lifting as much as I could of them in one hand. With her shaven afro in hand, I gestured with it in front of Mariana, reprimanding her for her refusal to conform to her parents’ wishes. “This, is the consequence you have subjected yourself to for refusing to obey your parents’ will,” I preached to Mariana, before cold-heartedly tossing the pile back onto the floor.

But that was not all. Her parents had planned something bigger, considering the fact that Mariana was such a stubborn daughter, and that it would take something more to convince her of reality. I tilted the chair in an anti-clockwise direction, making Mariana now face towards the left instead of the mirror. Her eyes were already drenched with tears from having to witness me shave off her afro, but more was coming. I lifted the haircutting cape by the front, and let it rest on top of the armrests, so that the lower half of Mariana’s body was revealed. Unsurprisingly, she wore revealing clothes, particularly a floral dress cut several inches above the knees, which opposed the values of her parents’ religion.

I pulled out the haircutting scissors from my pouch, and snipped the dress apart by the centre as far up as the cape reveals. Mariana’s panties are now revealed, and she seemed more appalled now by what was coming next. I slit apart her panties by the sides, before pulling them off her forcefully and tossing it onto the vacant chair beside the one Mariana was secured to. With the panties now gone, her pubic area was now uncovered. Her pubic hair was in full bloom, a generous garden of pubes that were wiry and curly, similar to the texture of her now-shaved afro. I was disgruntled by the fact that my long-time client did not even bother to take care of her pubic area, which was essential in a basic hygiene routine.

To help her get started, the hair clippers were put to use again. I gave the blades a few good swipes with a brush, removing any remnants from the previous shaving of Mariana’s afro. The clippers came alive again with a loud thud, ready to mow away. Without hesitation, I mowed away at Mariana’s pubes, letting the clippers eat away at the pubic hair as I ran it around her pubic area. The sheared pubes gathered quickly by the small gap between Mariana’s pelvis and the chair, but I let it gather on purpose to dramatise the punishment she was receiving. With a few more passes using the clippers, Mariana’s pubic area was shaved down to super short stubble, almost invisible to the naked eye. With one good swipe, I grabbed all of the pubic hair that had piled up in one hand, and tossed them away to the floor right in the face of Mariana. She had already ran out of tears and simply given in, subjecting herself to any punishment I was going to deal.

For the highlight of the session, I pulled out a straight razor, but removed the guard that was usually put in place to prevent cuts during use. Mariana deserved to know the full extent of her mistake and what consequences will she face if she decide to make such an error again. Using one hand, I stretched the skin around her labia tightly to keep it flat, before using the straight razor to scrap off the remaining stubble. Each drag of the razor removed a significant amount of stubble, gradually revealing a clean vagina area with no hair at all. I applied more force to ensure every single strand or stubble is shaved off, sometimes cutting Mariana’s labia in the process. But I could not care less. Before long, the entire pubic area was completely free of hair, with some cuts around slightly bleeding, but nothing serious. I pulled back down her slit dress to bring Mariana’s punishment to an end.

As I loosened the ropes securing Mariana in place, she was already partially unconscious, too shocked by my disposure of such dramatic punishment, and confusion as to why I did so. It was all in the name of survival. Should I offend her parents, who knows what could happen to me and my business in the near future?

Upon loosening her, I signalled for the assistants to step in and lift Mariana off the seat. By the backdoor of the salon, a black limousine was already parked in place, ready to transport the victim to her next stop. I opened the door of the vehicle, and the assistants put Mariana in before closing the door. The vehicle took off, concluding the entire process, and I could finally heave a sigh of relief at completing this tedious task.

We are aware that this story may provide reference to certain aspects of certain religions. Kin EMJX & Haircut Stories would like to reassure our readers that the usage of these aspects are not intended to offend any of the religion’s followers, but rather, purely for fictional & recreational purposes. In the case that our readers’ interpret otherwise, we seek their kind understanding by reaffirming our stance that we do not bear such intentions, and are open to editing the storyline if the interpretation is justified. Any reader that wish to do so can contact us via the Contact Us page. Thank you.

Janice & The Express Salon (Chapter 3)

“Sam, get over here right now!” Janice remarked angrily as he spotted his presence by the entrance of the express hair salon. She was infuriated by Sam’s broken promise of returning on time for his haircut. Janice stepped off the barber chair and headed straight for Sam, grabbing him by his arm and dragged him straight out to avoid creating a commotion for the customers waiting for their turn.

Sam unknowingly, seemed frustrated at Janice’s anger, since he had not noticed that half her head of long locks were being shorn off. The shaven sides were still covered by her incredibly long locks at the top. “Why are you shouting at me? I was a little late, but shit did not happen within the few minutes in difference right?” Sam retaliated. Janice remarked again that he was late by in fact, a total of fifteen minutes, enough for the barber to shave half her head.

She lifted her locks by the top to show Sam how severely short the shaven sides were. The previously flowing long hair was nothing but super short stubble that allowed a clear peek at Janice’s scalp. Sam was taken aback at the sight of Janice’s plight, and bobbed his head downwards, an act of regret and guilt.

She however, found no comfort in leveraging on Sam’s guilt. After all, there is nothing Sam can do or act to return her the long flowing hair she had. Only time could. But in the meantime, she wanted to teach Sam a lesson, and this time round, in a devilish manner. “You will now do as I say, or if word gets to mum, you are so dead for getting me into this shape,” Janice ordered Sam. Out of pure remorse, Sam nodded in obedience.

Janice then grabbed Sam tightly by his arm again, and pulled him towards the other side of the mall strip. At the far end of the mall, near the entrance into the residential district, a traditional two-seater barbershop laid, serving the older men that live in the area. Today, they will have the pleasure of serving a young man with a severe haircut.

Just by the door into the barbershop, Janice turned towards Sam again, face still seemingly annoyed. She however held it in, and issued instructions to Sam. “You will go in there, and ask for a #1 buzzcut. Following, request for a total head shave with the straight razor and warm shaving cream.” Janice ordered Sam.

Sam seemed flabbergasted at Janice’s request, instantaneously reaching up to caress his thick, curly head of brunette locks. He was after all, not very familiar with barbershop culture as he was brought up getting his haircuts at hair salons. Janice reassured him that it was going to be over in moments and that she would follow him in if that might make him feel better. Amidst her anger and intention to punish Sam for his wilfulness that caused her to lose much of her hair, the kinship between them as brother and sister still existed. Reassured by Janice, Sam nodded and entered the barbershop. Janice followed right behind, and signaled to the nearest barber that she was simply accompanying Sam.


The barbershop had two barbers on duty, one male and female. The man was in his mid-thirties, working on one of their seemingly regular customers, a retired man who was obviously balding by the top. The other was a barberette in actual fact, and she sat on the vacant barber chair. The barber whom Janice signaled, named Wesley, called out to Roxanne, who had not taken notice of her incoming victim.

Upon noticing the arrival of Sam and Janice, Roxanne rose from the barber chair and gave it a few pats while maintaining eye contact with Sam. He moved forward and took a seat on the barber chair, a little uncomfortable with the ambience of the barbershop. Feeling awkward, he took a few glances at Roxanne as she prepped her tools to serve Sam. She looked to be in her late twenties, and was dressed modestly but fashionably. Roxanne donned a plan pullover of a bright turquoise shade, and paired it with washed out skinnies. Her hair was trendily cut in a one-length bob with some layers cut in, and was blown dry to curve slightly inwards in a C-curl. Roxanne was overall, very demure and feminine, making many question why she would work in such a masculine environment such as a barbershop, when she would fit much better in a hair salon.

Sam grasped the arm support of the chrome barber chair as he awaited his unescapable fate of being shorn by Roxanne. Roxanne gave her pair of clippers a final few brushes and some oiling before she hung it back by the hook. She then positioned herself behind Sam, ready to serve. “So, haircut for you young man?” Roxanne asked Sam courteously with a gentle smile. Sam, still quite unsure of going ahead with this initially, took a glance at Janice again via the mirror, and saw a menacingly annoyed figure. He had no choice. “Umm, I would like a buzz, buzzcut using a #1 and then a full head shave with the straight razor.” Sam answered stutteringly.

“Wow, okay. You will look great being totally shaved, trust me.” Roxanne remarked. She then lifted the barber cape that was hung over the barber chair Sam sat on. The cape was a plain white haircutting cape, and had minimal detail except for black lining by the neck and the corners of the cape. Before caping Sam, she reached for a roll of neck strip, tore a piece and wrapped it tightly around Sam’s neck. The cape was then tossed over Sam, and fastened snuggly over the neck strip. The width of neck strip that was not covered by the cape was then folded down over the cape.

Sam started to feel nervous, since it was the first time he was getting all his hair shaved off. Heck, this was probably the first time in a long while Sam would be having hair shorter than what he had right now. Usually, his hair would be much longer, close to shoulder length.

Roxanne gave the chair a few pumps to align Sam’s head better with the mirror, before stepping forward to reach for her pair of clippers by the hook. She turned it on with a thud, gave it a few brushes before stepping back behind Sam again. Without room for conversation or words, Roxanne simply combed through Sam’s unruly locks towards the back. As she tugged at his curly mane that almost refused to budge to Roxanne’s comb, his forehead was revealed as Roxanne continuously combed it backwards. When Roxanne finally rid his mane of the tangles, the pair of clippers was put to work. She placed them by Sam’s hairline by the front, and pushed it backwards straight from hairline to the crown. The clippers changed tune as it sliced through Sam’s locks, revealing a wide strip of stubble in the area it went through. Janice watched in astonishment, and almost started to cum mysteriously. She was surprised by her reaction, but held it back.

Roxanne unsparingly, continued with her task. She repositioned the clippers by the hairline, this time beside the shorn area, and pushed backwards once again. More hair was shorn off, and was pushed by the clippers off Sam’s head, landing on the wooden flooring of the barbershop. Sam’s hair was so thick that two pushes from the clippers could almost cover the area behind the barber chair in his hair! Roxanne quickly got through the process, running the clippers up the temple, shaving off Sam’s sideburns and the locks at his back. It did not take long for Sam’s curly locks to cover the white barber cape that enveloped him. Each stroke of the clippers revealed more of Sam’s scalp, and made him visualise better how he would look without any hair. With all his hair shorn down to stubble, he stared blankly at his reflection in the mirror. His head seemed so small now that there was no sheltering from his curly mop of hair, but it certainly accentuated his facial features.

Roxanne hooked the clippers back, and prepped to give Sam the second part of his punishment. Without sweeping off the shorn locks that covered Sam above the barber cape, she applied shaving cream over the stubble that remaining on Sam’s scalp. When she was satisfied with the application, she cleaned her hands with a towel hooked beside the barber chair, and reached for the straight razor. She positioned the blade by the crown of Sam’s scalp, and applied some tension to it as she pushed it downwards. Sam and Janice both could hear mild screeching sounds as the razor blade shaved off whatever stubble was left on Sam’s scalp. As the razor pushed downwards, a clean white scalp could now be clearly seen. Roxanne continued shaving off the stubble with the razor, and without long, revealed a Sam that was fully shaved.

He took his first glance, and found it quite acceptable strangely. He reached out from beneath the cape, and gave his scalp a few rubs. It was totally stimulating, since the scalp is one of the most sensitive parts of the human body. Sam smiled at his new look, almost forgetting that this was supposedly his punishment. Janice on the other hand, was quite unhappy that Sam seemed satisfied, and seemed quite upset.

Now that Sam has his head fully shaved, will Janice be finally pacified? Or will Janice take a more extreme cause of action? Stay tuned as we reveal the fourth and final part of this story!

S&M Salon

My name is Connie, and I am 22 years old. I have always been peculiar about my hair, never colouring  or layering it, and I have never gotten more than one inch of my hair cut at any one time. My hair is a light, gorgeous shade of brown and hangs as far back as my bra strap. Until today, I have always went to the same salon to get my hair washed, trimmed and dried. The salon is a short walk away from my apartment and I had an appointment at 9AM as usual with Jennifer, a female stylist whom always did my hair. Jennifer was however, sick today and the salon apologised for the late notification as they only opened at 9AM and I was always earlier by 5 to 10 minutes. They however, lost my business when the receptionist did not suggest rebooking my appointment with Jennifer, but to have Jackson, another stylist to do it for me. I politely rejected because I have at times seen Jackson get scissors-happy with his female clients even when they have specified their desired hairstyles. After several minutes of heated debate with the receptionist over not letting me rebook with Jennifer, I stormed out the door and walked down the sidewalk, strolling so long that my feet began to hurt and I sat down on a nearby bench.

While resting, I noticed that I had walked all the way to a Chinatown district within the city. The weather was hot and humid, making me sweat profusely and if my hair had not been tied up previously, it would already have been a tangled mess. Just then, I spotted a modest shophouse across the street labelled as “S&M Salon”, with a silver pair of scissors painted on its entrance. I supposed it was a hair salon and felt that it was some sort of fate to see another hair salon down here at this district, and figured S&M probably represented the names of the owners. Hence, I decided to cross over and check the place out, seeing if there was a person at the salon who might make a good hairstylist.  I crossed the road promptly and made my way into the salon.

The interior was totally out of my expectations, with just a waiting room filled with simple, padded armchairs that were complemented with silver studs. The walls were painted true black and the ground resembled black marble tiles. No signs of a receptionist nor a front desk could be seen either, but there was a button on the nearby wall beside the door, which labelled “Push For Service”. Another door was present on the far side of the room, with an Asian symbol pointed on as well as a number keypad.

While nervous, I decided to press at the button, which resulted in a chime being rang on the other side of the door. The salon was pleasantly cool in the waiting area, so I decided to take a seat in one of the chairs to chill from the outdoor heat, planning to leave in a few minutes if nobody shows up to acknowledge my presence. Just then, a relatively young Asian woman walked through the mysterious door, an attractive lady in her thirties at most. She was dressed in silver, knee-length boots, and donned a black latex dress that stretched down till her knees, completely covering her chest all the way up to her neck. She was however, no doubt in good shape. Her outfit was complete with an odd necklace that resembled a wire cage around her neck, and her hair was held back in a tight bun with silver sticks stuck into it. No loose hair could be seen protruding from her neckline as one usually sees when a girl buns her hair up.

“Hello there,” the lady spoke briskly. “I am Amiko, and this is my salon. How may I be of service today?”, she continued. Her sudden question threw me slightly off guard, and I was still a little bit blunted with a dry throat. “Speak up and tell me what you want, I have customers coming in later and don’t have all day to chat with you,” Amiko further probed. With a husky voice, I responded that I was hoping I could get a quick trim, and introduced myself as Connie.

“Haircuts are $75, and payment is made before we begin, I assume that will be fine for you?”, Connie said.

I meekly replied with a nod and Amiko asked if I had any preference in hairstylists. I was so intrigued by her appearance that I asked if she could do it herself, but she said that there would be an additional $10 surcharge for her services. Nonetheless, I accepted her offer and paid her $85 fully in cash.

Upon payment, she printed out a receipt-like document and asked for my signature on it. Amiko further reassured that it was simply a waiver form to prove that I had voluntarily asked for their services. Assuming there was no fraud or anything similar involved, I paid no further attention to detail and simply signed on it. She then brought me through the door with the number keypad, which led into a hallway that was dimly lit.

“Last door on the right, and I’ll be there in a moment,” Amiko prompted. I entered and the room was relatively small, but still felt spacious enough, especially for a private salon room. The walls were a dark shade of red with the same black marble tiles. It was however, very old-fashioned with a refurbished barber chair that used black leather and chrome metal for its armrests. Strangely, a lever was also present on the side of the chair, but I paid no attention to it. There was also a counter behind the chair in black, which was probably the sink to wash clients’ hair during haircuts or chemical treatments. I sat down on the barber chair, and was surprised by its comfort, not knowing what was to come next.

“Stay still now, someone will be in here soon to help me keep you comfortable,” Amiko said before she closed the door. Whispers in a foreign language could then be heard through the door, before two girls dressed similar to Amiko appeared through that same door. They said nothing and simply walked behind the chair I sat on.

Out of the sudden, a V-shaped leather strap was then placed over the top of my head, and fastened at my stomach to the chair. “What the…”, I said as I struggled to remove the strap, but quickly felt a pair of hands grab each of my wrists, and forcing them onto the armrests. The other then instantly pulled up leather straps that were seamlessly attached to the armrests, and tied my hands to it. A small leather belt was then pulled out as well, and fastened tightly around my wrists, preventing any chane of moving my hands. They then grabbed hold of my legs, and used similar straps to tie them to the footrest. I was now completely immobilised. Noticing that the V-strap at my stomach area may not be sufficient, one of the girls added another strap over my head, this time fastening it by my neck. My vision was now restricted to facing forward, which was an empty wall. They uttered no words throughout the whole process, and left the room.

I screamed for help, asking to be released, but was futile. Sounds of heels rubbing against the tiles could then be heard, which followed by Amiko’s appearance from the doorway, with a snake-like smile on her face.

“Amiko, let me out of here, this is creepy and I’ll sue you if you do not release me!”, I shouted angrily at her. She said nothing, only brandishing the waiver that I had previously signed in my face. On it wrote a clause that negates all my rights while undergoing Amiko’s services. What have I signed up for?

Amiko then forced open my mouth, and stuffed an object in, which felt kind of big and had a small tube attached. She then blew through the other end of the tube, inflating the object, and my mouth swelled so badly that my mouth was forced open. I could hardly make out any noise now with the object in place, and Amiko stuffed the other end of the tube with a cap, keeping it inflated.

She then walked behind the barber chair I sat on, and I heard the sounds of a drawer being opened. A tower was then wrapped around my shoulders, before Amiko walked back in front of me with a humongous cape that was of the same latex material as her dress. She held both ends of the cape, and stretched her arms apart, letting the cape unfold itself. She then leaned forward, pushing the cape over me until I felt it by my neck in the front, before she walked behind me with the cape still in hand. Amiko then pulled the two ends together and tightened it with the snaps attached to the cape. The latex material made me feel trapped and took away my form entirely in the chair, all the way down to my ankles. I almost felt like a sheep waiting to be shorn, entirely at the mercy of Amiko the shepherd.

“Now, lets get started, shall we darling?” Amiko said as she undid my bun. I felt my brown locks becoming undone in her hands, and gradually tumbling down to rest against the back of the barber chair. Her nails could then be felt going through the back of my head as she stroked through my hair with her bare fingers. My eyes began to water as I feared what would Amiko do to my precious locks, but knew that I was helpless, not being able to move or stop her in any way. She then pulled on the lever attached to the seat, and I felt myself beginning to rotate, until I no faced a giant mirror, where I could finally see my reflection. I looked so weird to see nothing but my head and hair protruding from a sea of black latex. Amiko then gathered my hair together in the back and tied it into a ponytail. She fastened it tightly with a band several inches from the scalp at the back of my head, and I heard sounds of a metallic tool being picked off he drawer. It was most likely a pair of haircutting scissors. She smiled again in the mirror as she opened the blades of the scissors and placed the ponytail between. The blades were then forcefully pressed together by Amiko, and snipping sounds could be heard as the scissor blades struggled to cut through my thick locks of hair. Tears began to flow down my face, and my emotions could not be suppressed when I heard the scrunching sounds which sounded shockingly horrible to me. While it was heart wrenching for me, Amiko was probably enjoying this moment.

She started chuckling softly as she manipulated the blades open and shut. After a short moment, I could feel the ponytail being severed as strands of my cut hair began to fall off the ponytail and started framing around my face, about an inch above the shoulders. Amiko continued until the entire ponytail hanged from her hand, which she held in front of me and shook it such that the hair brushed against my face while tears drenched my face.

Using the lever again, the chair was adjusted until my neck laid in the rim of the sink. The water was on and she began to wet my hair with a surprisingly gentle touch. My hair was then lathered with shampoo for several minutes, with a relaxing head massage that I could hardly enjoy due to what had just dramatically occurred earlier. But the washing experience was so gentle and good I actually started to forget that this woman was the same one that had just sheared off most of my beautiful hair.  After conditioning my hair, she roughly squeezed off excess moisture and adjusted me back into an upright position.

Amiko began combing through my remaining length and without a word, combed out a section near my right temple, and snipped it off close to the scalp. Another section was then drawn out and snipped off quickly. This was done repeatedly until she finished off at the left temple. Expecting that she would began cutting the length off the top now, Amiko instead used a hairdryer to dry my hair. “We can’t have wet hair now can we, because we are about to begin your final cut, and it’s going to be real short,” Amiko exclaimed calmly.

I could not understand her intention as she had already chopped off so much of my hair. She rummaged through the drawer behind me once again, and with sounds of a tool being plugged in, Amiko gripped my head tightly this time. The tool snapped alive with a thud, which sounded unfamiliar, and was pushed up the right side of my head. The tool, presumably a pair of clippers, changed tune as it ran through my locks of hair. What was already terribly short was now buzzed close to stubble. I could feel more locks of hair began to tumble down the cape with each stroke from the clippers. Amiko then forcefully pushed my head forward so much that my chin almost touched my chest. The clippers then went up the back of my head, sending more hair cascading down the cape. I could not see how much hair was left, but I could feel the sensation and the cut hair that fell into my lap from my shoulders. The light brown locks looked foreign against the black latex cape and my tears were so abundant right now that it dripped onto the hair amidst the cape.

My head was then tilted towards my right shoulder so that Amiko could buzz off what was left on the left side. The clippers were then finally turned off, but I could heave no sigh of relief. A smaller set was immediately fired up, but had a different tune, which sounded more like a buzz than a whir. She flicked them around the edges of my hairline, as if tapering the edges.

The smaller clippers were then turned off subsequently, when Amiko began spraying the top of my hair with a squirt bottle, since the hair had gotten a bit dry while cutting. The hair on top felt much longer than I had thought as she ran her fingers through it. Amiko combed the entire top section forward, until it hung in my face and even covered my eyes. A section in the very front where a fringe usually lay, was combed up and with a few quick snips, was gone and I could only see more brown, wet locks littering the cape. She repeated the gesture evenly throughout the top,.

“Now now, that is soooo much better, isn’t it Connie?” Amiko rhetorically asked. She rubbed her hands through my hair and snipped as she wanted, before picking up a brush and began to dry my hair. She used the lever once again to rotate me back to face the giant mirror.  My eyes opened wide at how short my hair was. The top was so short, the hair almost stood up on its own without any help from hairstyling products. The sides and back were shaved so short my scalp was clearly visible. I wanted to question her intention behind this, but the stuffing in my mouth prevented me from doing so.

Amiko smirked as she watched my emotions unfold, almost knowingly that my thoughts were about to change. As if the haircut had changed my mindset, I began to feel that the haircut, whilst super short, suited me well. Amiko seemed to share the same thoughts as well. As if learning of my acceptance, Amiko gestured a nod of satisfaction. “I knew you would love your hair short, you just didn’t have the guts to do it,” she said. The gag in my mouth was removed, and placed into the sink.  She then unfastened the cape, which was so heavy my body was already beginning to ache.

I thanked Amiko for the haircut, as she began to undo the straps and belts restraining me to the chair. It was much better than I would have expected. “You will call me Mistress Amiko from now on, my dear,” Amiko said she she unfastened. I nodded meekly as she gave me a silver card while I stood up from the chair. I took the card and walked through the door into the waiting room again. “Call me in eight weeks for a haircut appointment, or I will find you and shave you personally,” said Mistress Amiko as she walked me to the front door. I smiled and walked out into the sidewalk.

As if I just went through a hell of a journey, I ran my fingers through my hair, or what was left of it. It felt so great, the stubbly feeling by the sides and back, and so did the top which felt like short spikes. I turned back to look at the door again, and finally understood what did S&M really meant, and it certainly wasn’t the names of the owners.

We are aware that the author of this story, Jennsen Smith, has shared it with another website as well. We have terminated our partnership and this story has been altered to differentiate with the original version that he has submitted to the other website. We apologise for any inconvenience caused.

Alyssa’s Mystery

Disclaimer: This story contains sexual content. Please be advised for all readers below 18 years of age.

Alyssa awoke prematurely, oblivious to what have happened previously that caused her unconsciousness. The young lady, dressed in what seemed like a maid outfit, had been trying to wake Alyssa up, but to no avail. She finally succeeded with a slightly overpowered kick to Alyssa’s thigh.

Alyssa rose, now awake from her unnaturally caused slumber. Still slightly drowsy, she could barely make out the face of the girl who had awakened her, but saw a nametag on her which says Mary.  It was also then did she realise that she had completely no idea where she was.

Alyssa's Mystery - Scene 1

The surroundings looked dilapidated, and only dim light managed to shine through the window grills. There were salon equipment, such as styling chairs and mirrors in the room she was as well.

“Don’t be afraid. Just let me do what they want to you. They just want a good show,” Mary now spoke, with short pauses in between each sentence.

Alyssa could barely process what the lady had preached, before she pulled her up to stand on her feet. She then gestured for Alyssa to take a seat on the nearby salon chair.

Alyssa's Mystery - Scene 2

She was hesitant to obey her orders, but decided to do as she says at the moment. Alyssa took heavy, reluctant steps towards the chair, before sitting down, resting her feet on the movable footrest.

As soon as she sat, Alyssa quickly regretted her decision as the lady spared no time in taking action. With hardly any time to react, the lady had already tied her ankle to the footrest with thick rope, allowing minimal movement of her feet. She tried to struggle, but was in futile as the lady pushed her back into place. The handcuffs appeared to tame Alyssa, and her hands were now cuffed in place, leaving her helpless.

“Do as I say, or the boss won’t be happy. And when he isn’t happy, you wouldn’t want to know what happens then,” was the stern warning Mary served before she walked over to a nearby station.

While she seemed busy picking out what looked to be haircutting tools, Alyssa knew she had to do something. She tried to pull on the handcuffs, and see if it gave way. It didn’t. But it sure did rouse the attention of the lady.

With the tools now in hand, she walked back over, obviously displeased at Alyssa’s disposition. “You see that over there? It’s a camera, the boss is watching you,” Mary warned again, pointing to a device affixed to a corner of the wall top.

Just then, their one-sided conversation was interrupted, when a similar maid-like figure appeared from the only door. She was dragging along a lady by a rope, which tied up her hands. She was forced down onto the other salon chair in the room, and was quickly tied up as Alyssa was in a similar fashion.

Alyssa-s Mystery - Victim

But it didn’t stop there. Something similar to a torture brank was fitted into her mouth, leaving it wide open, and stopping her from conversing at the same time. A brown hairdressing cape was then laid over her, and fastened tightly around her shoulders.

The maid-like figure adjusted the chair’s backrest slightly, and reached for a pair of hair clippers that were already laying on the nearby table, as if on standby.

Alyssa's Mystery - Alyssa

The clippers turned on with a thud, and were mercilessly pushed down the middle of the lady’s forehead. Alyssa could watch no longer, on the brink of tears as she feared a similar fate.

“See that woman over there? She didn’t cooperate as we had wished, so we had to use some… additional measures to keep her in check,” Mary explained while standing by my side, watching the show.

That being said, Alyssa lost all hope, and resigned to the wishes of the lady. There was no more struggling, only submission.

“If you are a good girl, the boss may just let you go after this is done. But if you don’t follow, this may drag on for a while, and I’m sure that is not your wish,” she further commented.

The one-sided conversation then came to an end, as she reached for a similar brown hairdressing cape, and draped it over Alyssa, fastening it snuggly around her neck.

“Lift your legs, and place them over the sides of the chair,” Mary commanded. Alyssa obeyed, spreading them as far apart as the tight rope allows.

Mary lifted the cape, which curtained down to Alyssa’s ankle previously. It was lifted all the way up to her upper body, and folded so that it didn’t fall back down. Mary took a pair of haircutting scissors, and snipped Alyssa’s tube top dress down the middle at the bottom, all the way up to as far as the cape reveals. Alyssa’s thick mound of curly pubes were now in full exposure.

Alyssa was afraid of what is going to happen, but took it in as she knew this was her only way to survive this cursed fate.

“Wow, you go the no-maintenance style down there, don’t you?” Mary commented, obviously referring to Alyssa’s pubes which she left unkempt throughout her life.

Mary then reached for a pair of clippers, turning it on with a loud thud. For some unknown reason, this one sounded much more menacing as compared to the other lady’s.

The clippers touched Alyssa’s privates, and sent cold shivers down Alyssa’s spine. But the vibrations, oh it was arousing. So arousing Alyssa had to hold it all in, afraid to cum, especially in such undesirable scenarios.

The clippers made quick work as Mary made several passes around the vulva, and subsequently cleaning up the entire private area. The accumulated pubes were then swept off her privates with Mary’s hands, sending them down onto the floor. All that remained was thin stubble that felt like soft bristles when caressed.

“Good girl, now we are done with step one. If you do well for the next round, the boss may just agree to let you go,” Mary remarked.

The cape was pulled back down, once again covering all the way down to Alyssa’s ankles. For some reason, Alyssa felt like a sheep, waiting to be shorn by her shepherd, Mary.

The clippers turned back on again, and this time approached Alyssa’s hair. She longed to reach and caress her long, luscious curls, but it was impossible. Mary used the other hand to move away the locks covering Alyssa’s hairline at the front. The clippers were then plunged down the centre, and pushed all the way until the crown area. The clippers had mowed the hair in its path, revealing Alyssa’s scalp in the area it shorn.

Mary then continued to make several more passes, dislodging most of Alyssa’s locks down her back. Some of the hair fell towards the front, cascading down Alyssa’s shoulders, and laid lifeless on her lap now.

Mary repositioned herself now to Alyssa’s left, and pushed the clippers ruthlessly up towards her temple, sending all her clipped locks down the cape, and quickly gathering into a reasonably large pile. Alyssa held back her tears as she watch Mary take away the hair she had painstakingly grown over the past few years.

The hair on Alyssa’ right temple was chopped off in a similar fashion, before Mary worked on the back, pushing the clippers up from nape to crown. Alyssa was already beginning to feel light-headed, with all her hair now shaved off.

After Mary made a final few passes to ensure all hair was shaved off, she used a brush to sweep around Alyssa’s neck, before the cape was unfastened.

Alyssa watched as the pile of her hair previously on the cape was swept off the cape, and laid lifelessly on the floor now. The years of growth, now all gone.

Before Alyssa knew what was coming next, her head was covered up, and knocked unconscious once again.

When she awoke, she found herself by the front gates of her home, still donning the same tube top dress which was cut apart by Mary.

She reached up to check if her long curly locks were still there, but they were nowhere to be found. It wasn’t a dream that Mary had shaved off all her pubes and long hair.

What exactly happened, remains a mystery. A mystery that Alyssa will never solve.

Deceptive Alice: Forced Buzzcut

I strode along the streets, looking for my destination. Alice had told me it was a 100 year old warehouse building, so it must look pretty antique. Nevertheless, the street was filled with century-old buildings and it took some effort before finding the correct one.

Salon Scene

I walked through the entrance and entered the salon. There was no reception counter, but a long row of stools lay along one side of the salon. There seemed to be a long queue as many people sat on these stools, seemingly waiting for their haircut. The other side was filled with salon chairs, mostly with clients on them. What sent a shiver down my neck were the unusual looks most of the stylists sported. Nevertheless, since Alice personally introduced it, I tried not to let it get to me.

I took a seat at the end of the queue on the stools, and waited patiently for my turn. Unpredictably, the queue actually cleared up pretty quickly as there were quite a few stylists working and they were pretty efficient in their work. Each client only took approximately ten minutes to finish before they are up and gone.

Not long after, I was already on the stool at the very front of the queue, meaning I was next. Not far off at the corner, I saw a lady dressed in a purple top and jeans finishing up her client. Chances are I’m going to get my haircut by her. While she was dressed appropriately, her bob had a purple streak dyed in and it reflected on her negatively.

As she brushed the loose hairs off her client and unfastened the cape, I prepared myself, breathing in and out continuously. Changing stylists are never easy for girls.

Thereafter, the client got up, paid the stylist and left. The stylist then turned and exchanged looks with me. She smiled and gestured for me to take a seat. I stood up and went over to take a seat.

As I sat down, I spoke up to her. ‘Hi, I’m introduced by Alice?’ I said.

‘Ah, I see you’re a friend of Alice. Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands!’ she replied.

She dialogued further, ‘I’m Sheila, nice to meet you. Just to clarify, the norm here is that the stylists give their clients the cut they think best suits them. The client has no say here, and that’s what makes us unique. You don’t know what you’re going to look like until the stylist finishes the cut!’

‘What?’ I thought. Now that really got me. Alice didn’t mention this part to me! I can’t get to choose how I want my haircut? That affected me greatly, so much I momentarily wanted to stand up and leave.

However, just as I wanted to stand up, Sheila pinned me down by the shoulders, forcing me back on the chair. ‘Come on, you’ll look great!’ she exclaimed. I stared in disbelief as she covered my neck firmly with a neck strip, and draped a large white hairdressing cape over me, fastening it tightly around my neck. ‘Too late now,’ I guessed.

Before commencing the cut, Sheila placed an oversized haircutting collar around my shoulders, and it weighed down on me. ‘It’s to help keep the client sitting up and straight,’ Sheila explained.

I clenched my fists tightly onto the arms of the salon chair, horrified at the thought of not knowing how Sheila is going to cut my hair. Sheila was then picking up a pair of electric clippers, and that really brought me to the extremity, almost breaking down in tears for fear of losing my long locks.

Sheila attached a long blade to the clippers, and then repositioned herself on my right. The clippers turned on with a thud, and as the clippers came close to my scalp, I closed my eyes as the machine changed tunes while shearing through my blonde locks. My eyes got wet as I thought, ‘Alright, a pixie cut for me. That’s not too bad,’ consoling myself psychologically.

Sheila continued pushing the clippers from front to back, starting from the sideburn area. As the clippers severed off my tresses, a small, thin sideburn was left in place. Things turned bad when I noticed Sheila wasn’t working around my back and sides, but over the top! She continued combing down sections from the top of my head and shaving it off with the clippers!

Half Buzzed

As she reached the centre point of my head, I stared in horror at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a freak! One side was still full of my long luscious hair, whereas the other side was shaved down to less than in inch. Sheila reached for a brush to clean off any loose hairs around my face.

Full Buzzcut by Irina 1

She then moved to my left, and started from the sideburn area again. The clippers tore through my hair, and the sheared locks slid down the large cape, resting in my lap above the cape or on the salon floor. More and more locks tumbled down the cape as she worked her way up the head, depriving me of all my long locks soon after.

Full Buzzcut by Irina 2

Tears slid down my face as I saw the last lock shorn off my head, and all I was left in place was super-short hair all over. Sheila tried to console me that it looked great and accentuated my features, but to no avail. I was convinced it looked terrible, and told myself I will never return to Sheila again.